


Set Sail

by JustDrinkTea



Series: Pirate AU [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Captain Damen, Captain Laurent, Escape, Eventual Romance, Inappropriate Flirting, M/M, Not Romance, Pirate Laurent, The Royal Navy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7488828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustDrinkTea/pseuds/JustDrinkTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damen has recently been promoted as a captain in the Queen's Royal Navy. Laurent is a pirate captain who has recently been put in irons. He needs a way out, and he needs Damen to do it. Luckily for him, he's got a leverage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Sail

**Author's Note:**

> You won't even believe how much research I did on COATS just for this fic.

This wasn’t the first time Damen had paid a visit to the prison. In fact, he had made three trips within the last six days, though he never was quite sure _why_. It wasn’t quite curiosity that brought him back each time-- he was well aware of that much; it was closer to a haunting presence in the back of his mind that called to him.

There was only one prisoner held here; these cells were made to house men on a short-term basis. This night would be this prisoner’s last. He sat in the back corner of his cell, bare feet planted out in front of him comfortably, his head back against the wall.

He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Only when Damen’s footsteps came to a halt in front of the iron bars did he bother to crack an eye open.

“Aha,” the prisoner mused, “the lieutenant has returned yet again. And with a fancy new coat, no less.”

The coat had been a gift-- a commemoration-- and no doubt an expensive one; dyed with indigo and embroidered carefully with gold. He looked like a king compared to the prisoner, whose ponytail was greasy and shirt was stained with old blood.

Damen fidgeted with one of his buttons absentmindedly. “It’s Captain now, actually.”

That earned Damen a raised eyebrow in response. “ _Captain?_ ” The word was repeated slowly, as if testing it out on his tongue. “Captain Damen, then. Doesn’t have nearly the ring to it that Captain Laurent does, though, wouldn’t you agree?”

Damen frowned. “After tomorrow there’ll be no more Captain Laurent.”

The corners of Laurent’s lips quirked up, amused. “So they keep telling me.” He closed his eyes again. “And that’s why you’ve come here so late in the night? So desperate to find me this one last time before I’m hanged?” He spoke casually, completely unconcerned with his own death.

“I’m not here for _you._ ” Damen wrapped his hands around the slender bars, the metal cold against his palms. “I’m here for what you say you know.”

The memory flickered in Damen’s mind-- Laurent, the feared pirate captain, near laughter even as he was shoved into irons and into the brig. _“Careful not to let them kill me just yet, Lieutenant! I have information regarding ‘Her Majesty’ that you might just be interested in.”_

The recollection deepened Damen’s frown. “Care to shed any light on the subject?”

“How many nights of sleep have you lost over this, my dear Captain?” Laurent teased. “I _had_ thought I’d noticed circles beneath your eyes.” He peeked at Damen and let the silence hang for a breath before standing, stretching. “Personally, I’ve been sleeping quite--”

“ _Will you get on with it?_ ” Damen hissed.

That earned Damen an unamused look-- as though Laurent couldn’t stand that he wasn’t playing along with this silly game.

“Fine,” Laurent said, the blue of his eyes meeting Damen’s. “An assassination. I know when. I know where, how, and by whom it will be performed.”

Damen could feel his jaw go slack. He stared at Laurent in disbelief, almost waiting for him to congratulate Damen on falling into the role of the fool. But while it seemed this was all still a part of his game, it was clearly no trick-- the seriousness of it reflected on the pirate’s face. Damen was surprised when he managed to speak. “You must tell me everything.”

Again he was met with a raised eyebrow. “Must I? Tell you or don't tell you, I’ll still be dead before dawn.”

Damen’s mind drew blank, and yet it somehow seemed crowded with every conceivable thought. “If you really know something, it's your duty to-”

“It's not my duty to do anything. You and I both know the Queen does not hold my loyalty.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I have no interest in politics.”

Panic. Damen's grip on the bars tightened, his knuckles nearly white. “We'll double the watches… triple her guards if we have to.”

Laurent hummed thoughtfully. “If you think that will help.”

“And what do _you_ think will help, then?” Damen said, angry he was so easily-- so _desperately_ \-- playing into this trap.

Laurent stepped forward, further closing what little space remained between them, and wrapping his fingers ‘round the bars just below where Damen’s rest.  “I have a little something of a proposition for you.”

“I don't make deals with pirates.”

“Oh but I think you might just take this one.” He sounded so sure of himself, so positive that he was about to get his way. “Listen carefully. My ship will be arriving tonight; it's possible they've already dropped anchor.”

“How can you know--”

“I know. Help me get aboard and out of your godforsaken _royal_ waters and I'll tell you every detail that's been entrusted to me.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Damen looked compulsively over his shoulder, suddenly very aware of the conversation he was having, and very aware a guard would soon be making his rounds. When he spoke again, his voice was low, barely above a whisper. “You’re asking me to betray everything I stand for.”

Laurent’s tone remained conversational. “Yes,” he replied simply. “Betraying Queen and Country for the sake of Queen and Country…. Ironic, isn’t it?”

The muscles in Damen’s hands began to ache. With a deep exhale, he let go, shaking out his fingers as he began to pace around the room, his back to Laurent. “I… I need a moment to think about this.”

“That’s all you’ll have is a moment; guards come ‘round here at 11:30-- sometimes earlier. The clock last rang just before you arrived.” A beat of silence. “I’d say we have five minutes for you to decide.”

Five minutes. Five minutes wasn’t nearly enough time to properly think things through; there was too much at stake, too many variables, too few options for him to consider. Damen wheeled around on his heel, and found himself staring at Laurent’s filthy, outstretched hand stuck out from between the bars.

Laurent sounded dangerous when he said, “Do we have an accord, Captain?” Even beneath the grime, his eyes seemed to sparkle. He already knew he had won.

Damen stood still. “Do I have your word on this?”

“On my honor as a pirate.”

Begrudgingly, Damen clasped Laurent’s hand in his own. “That doesn’t mean much.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I’m hoping I will be.”

Laurent nodded towards the old wooden door to his left, sliding his hand free from Damen’s. “Two minutes.”

Damen spent a total of four minutes pressed against the wall near the door. The clock struck at the half hour, the sound of its bells muffled greatly by the dense stone walls of the prison. Soon, but what felt like an eternity after, the doorknob turned and a guard strode inside. He made it three paces in before Damen grabbed him fast-- a large hand pressed over the guard’s mouth and nose, his arm wrapped tightly around his throat. The man quickly fell limp in Damen’s hold and was lowered gently to the ground as Damen searched his belt for the keys.

“You seem practiced in this,” Laurent observed, watching closely as Damen unlocked the cell door. It swung open with a creak, and Laurent stepped out victoriously.

“I’m not-- and I don’t plan to become so, either.” Damen hid away the keys in his coat where they were sure to stay quiet. “You should take his coat; it may help buy some time if we’re spotted.”

It only took one casual look at the unconscious man for Lauren to make up his mind. “I think I’d prefer my own coat, thank you. And my boots while we’re at it; you’d be surprised at how cold these cells get at night. My feet would welcome the leather.”

Before Damen could protest, Laurent continued on with his ridiculous demands. “You must know where the storeroom is-- lead the way. We don’t have much time before someone realizes one of their guards is missing.”

There was no time to argue, Damen told himself as he snuck through the halls. He had to act fast-- get the things, get out, save the queen.

It almost sounded simple when he considered it like that.

They made it to the storeroom without incident, and Laurent immediately began rummaging through the many chests and racks. Damen’s attention flickered between the door and Laurent as he dressed. His boots were tall, well-worn, and looked as though they had recently dulled from too many days without polish. His coat was a shade darker than Damen’s own, and bore Laurent’s infamous golden starburst on the cuff of each sleeve.

A tricorn hat hid the most of Laurent’s bright hair, which Damen was thankful for. The ensemble complemented him far better than prison rags, even with the dried blood and tears in his shirt.

Damen found himself having to force his eyes back to the door, readying himself to leave the room.

But first, “Now this is a find,” Laurent said quietly. Damen heard the clicking of a pistol behind him. He turned, and found Laurent inspecting a duel set. He turned them over a couple of times in his hands before slipping one through his belt. He strode over to Damen, handing him the other. “Here. They’re flintlock-- nice ones, too.”

“We don’t have time to load these.”

“No,” Laurent agreed. “But I prefer not to be caught unprepared.”

If there was a situation where they would ever be thankful for a pair of useless firearms, Damen couldn’t think of it. He tucked the pistol away anyhow, feeling uneasy at the heaviness of it on his hip. It was not so much the weapon itself that bothered him, but the realization that he was now _armed_ against his own men.

But it was still for the greater good.

They slipped out of the room and again into the hallway. “Where are we heading, exactly?” Damen whispered as they crept carefully, slowly.

“West. We need to get to the water-- there should be a boat waiting there to take me to the ship.”

Damen nodded, thinking fast. “There’s a stairway down to the shore at the upper southwest corner of the fort. If we keep straight down this hallway, we can head up to the outer walkway. From there it’s a short walk to the steps. Just keep low and stay close.”

It was slow going. Damen kept a wary eye on each door they passed, paused and peeked each time they came across a crossing hallway. Laurent was near silent on his feet, and more than once Damen had to glance over his shoulder to make sure he was still following.

They were lucky; during such late hours there weren’t so many guards patrolling the fort, and any non-essential patrons and personnel were long asleep in their beds. The lower levels required lower security, and any sounds of foreign footsteps were easily avoided. It was the upper level that Damen was concerned with. But more concerning to him was the alarm that would be raised when the unconscious body was found in place of the pirate captain. Should it sound at their inconvenience, they were both doomed.

For the first time since the arrest, Damen hoped that the name ‘Captain Laurent’ lived to see the next sunset.

By the time they reached the first stairway, Damen swore that he could hear his heartbeat echoing off the walls around him. He could feel the pounding in his ribcage, could feel the heavy coursing of his blood through his body. It added to his uneasiness.

Finally, they reached the outer wall. The night air was warm, but the breeze coming off the sea was cool-- near chilly. The walkway was lantern-lit, the flames seeming almost inviting as they illuminated the path. The steps leading down the wall were barely visible in the distance, and Damen sighed at the sight.

Damen motioned for Laurent to wait in the doorway while he ensured their pathway was clear of guards. He stepped out casually onto the parapet, as though out for a stroll on a sleepless night. For the second time since his arrival, he was hyper-conscious of the ringing of the clock’s bells. 11:45.

“Captain Damen, sir!” The voice came from behind him, to his right and on the other side of the entryway.

Surprised, Damen spun. He found himself facing Officer Pallas-- the son of a lord who wished to make his own name by way of climbing the naval ranks. He was standing at attention, saluting.

Forcing himself to relax, Damen returned the salute. “Pallas,” he greeted the young man. “You startled me.”

Pallas’s hand fell to his side. “My apologies, sir. I didn’t expect to see you so late-- I was surprised myself.”

“Yes, well…” He struggled to find the words. “There is much to think about tonight.”

Realization spread across Pallas’s face. “Yes, I nearly forgot! Tomorrow, the pirate captain you--”

The sentence ended abruptly, interrupted. The frantic, heavy sound of bronze bells cut harshly through the stillness of the night. Not clock bells, but alarm bells. In the distance, an accompanying voice could be heard: “ _Escaped prisoner!_ ”

Panic swelled in Damen’s chest. Without meaning to, he glanced in Laurent’s direction. Pallas’s gaze followed.

The two officers reached the same realization within the same breath, eyes snapping back to meet each other in the middle.

Damen was the only thing that stood between Pallas and the nearest alarm bell. He stepped deliberately towards the center of the narrow walkway, effectively blocking the path.

Pallas glared, angry and confused. “Sir, I--”

Laurent stepped out then, out of the shadows and into the dim lantern light. He remained almost shadow-like himself in his dark clothes, looking near menacing as he pulled the pistol from his belt. “Now _this_ ,” he took aim at Pallas, “is the game that I like.”

The gun wasn’t loaded. Laurent was bluffing. Damen knew that, but Pallas did not.

Laurent’s thumb pulled at the hammer, clicking it down into place. Pallas slowly raised his hands above his head.

“Pallas,” Damen said slowly. “Let me explain.”

“We don’t have time,” Laurent interjected. And before Damen was aware of what was happening, Laurent was running towards him, knocking him off his feet. His hip hit the stone-- _hard_ \-- and though Damen reached for a hold, they still went over the side.

The last thing Damen could clearly comprehend before hitting the water was the sight of Pallas darting for the alarm bell.

The next thing that captured Damen’s awareness was the cold of the water. Perhaps in the heat of a summer day it would have been refreshing, but now, along with everything else, it served only to further shock his system. It was instinct and years of training that brought him back to the surface. Damen considered himself lucky to be alive when his head broke through the waves.

Then when Laurent surfaced, gasping and clutching tightly to his hat, Damen reconsidered. He swam the few strokes towards Laurent. “You pushed me off the parapet!”

When it came, Laurent’s voice was airy, though it did little to mask his amusement. “Yes. Like I said, we ran out of time.” The bells continued to ring, as if to prove his point. “Thankfully for us, the clouds don’t seem to be in too much of a hurry. It may not be quietly, but we can still slip away without being too easily spotted. So long as we move quickly.”

“So long as you don’t cause any more trouble for us,” Damen amended.

Laurent made a noise Damen thought might’ve been a laugh. “All a part of the game,” he said. “And we’re winning so far.” He extended an arm up out of the water and pointed a finger out into the expanse of ocean that lay behind Damen. “See? There’s our boatman now.”

Laurent’s boatman was a young sailor in a loose shirt and a rowboat. He cut through the water with ease and drifted to the odd pair with the sarcastic sort of greeting one could only expect from a man serving beneath someone such as Laurent. “That was quite the display,” he remarked. He leaned heavily to his left as his captain climbed in from the starboard side. Damen followed next and they eyed each other warily. “Who’s this then, Captain?”

“This is _Captain Damen of the Queen’s Royal Navy_ ,” Laurent said, drawing out the title sarcastically. Damen gave him a look, but he was clearly ignored. Laurent was shaking some of the water free from his sleeves. It didn’t seem to affect much. “We have an agreement.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he began rowing once again. “What kind of agreement?”

“An exchange of information,” Laurent replied matter-of-factly.

“Ah.” The boatman leaned into his rowing, propelling them away from the fort with strength and speed that Damen couldn’t help but admire. “I thought you were gonna fuck ‘im in exchange for letting you loose.”

Damen frowned heavily at the accusation, any sort of admiration he had felt before was now replaced with contempt for the blatant disrespect the man showed to his captain-- and to himself.

But Laurent simply regarded Damen with a quick glance from head to toe and back, as though it were the first time he was considering the idea. Then he returned his attention to his coat, wringing it out over the side casually, clearly unimpressed with the idea. “It wasn’t in our arrangement, Lazar.”

Damen, fully unable to comprehend the series of events he’d been made to endure that evening, sat in stunned and offended silence for the remainder of the trip.

The ship was nearby, but cleverly hidden. Her crew had taken advantage of the natural harbor to the north of the fort, and tucked themselves away there. In the night, the ship looked as beautiful as it was eerie; the hull was stained dark, and the paint had long been chipping away from the figurehead-- the wood-carved mermaid missing much of the color from her eyes.

A rope ladder dropped starboard side waited for them.

“Welcome,” Laurent said, standing, “to _The Saint Veretian._ ” He swept his arm up in a dramatic gesture, the sleeve of his coat still dripping with seawater. He turned then, and began climbing. He made it two rungs before he paused to say,“Though, you’ve already seen her once before, haven’t you?”

Damen said nothing, just followed after Laurent’s lead.

When they finally reached the deck, they were met with a large crew and a loud cheer. Damen’s eyes swept the crowd. He was familiar with the emotions on their faces and in their eyes-- this was a crew fiercely devoted to its captain. Immediately, Damen became aware that he was an outsider; a man of the Royal Navy, and one of the men who had aided in the capture of said captain. His own presence here felt like a threat unto himself.

If Laurent was aware of Damen’s discomfort, he did nothing to address it. He allowed the cheer to go on for a moment before he raised a hand, effectively silencing the crew. “Men,” he said clearly, “prepare to set sail. I want us out of these waters, and I want the flag to fly! Let them know the pirate Captain Laurent is making his exit.”

The men recognized the dismissal when they heard it, scrambling off to different parts of the deck to let loose the sails, retrieve the anchor. All the men, that is, save for one.

“Captain,” Laurent said, speaking now to Damen. He gestured to the man.“This is my first mate Jord. He will give you the grand tour while I make myself more… presentable. We will discuss matters then.” Before Damen could protest, he directed his attention to Jord. “Have one of the men bring a bucket of fresh water to my quarters. I’d very much like to wash this _royal prison stink_ from my skin.”

Jord almost smiled. “Yes, Captain.”

Though they were enemy by nature, Damen felt as though a wall of his security left when he and Laurent parted ways. Should there be a brawl in retaliation for the kidnapping of their captain, Damen was certain that he would be at the mercy of the crew without Laurent there to quell things. Thankfully enough, as it had been earlier with Lazar, it did not seem that any of the members knew his face.

Save, of course, for Jord.

“I do not know the captain’s intents with you aboard,” he said, leading Damen below the deck. “But I know you are part of, if not the whole reason, we have had to put this escape into action. I hope you understand that I will not allow you to wreak havoc on my ship-- especially in a manner that disrespects the captain in _any_ way.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Damen made to speak, but Jord slammed him hard against the wall, suddenly. A knife was pressed to his stomach, and Damen could feel Jord’s hip bone digging against his own painfully. The bruise left behind by the stone ached as it was assaulted. He grit his teeth.

“Know this,” Jord hissed, low. “One wrong move and I will gut you without hesitation.”

Damen’s eyes narrowed. “Your captain and I have an agreement,” he said. “That is all. Once the conditions are met I will happily leave and never tangle with you _or_ Laurent again.”

Jord considered this, and then pulled away. “For your sake I hope so.”

It would not be difficult for Damen to overpower Jord. He knew that, and he was certain that Jord could figure that out without having to be shown. But the man was fiercely loyal to his captain, to his crew. A few minutes and fewer words had more than shown that fact. Sometimes, Damen thought, loyalty proved to be the one of the most dangerous kinds of weaponry.

Then, he wondered, what would happen should Laurent show favor to his enemy? How would Jord react?

Damen pondered over this as they toured the ship.

They circled back to the upper deck and up to the captain’s quarters. Jord knocked neatly on the door. The reply from inside was almost instant. “The Captain may come in,” Laurent called. “Jord, you are dismissed for the time being.”

Jord did not look pleased at this order, but bore it anyway. “Yes, sir.”

Damen put a hesitant hand on the knob of the door, pushed it open and entered. He shut the door behind him, and couldn’t help but feel a small wave of relief wash over him now that he was away from the crew. He was stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes found Laurent in the center of the room.

His skin was washed, fresh and lovely as porcelain, his hair pulled back into a neat braid. Currently, he was shrugging on a dry coat, under which Damen could see a new undershirt free of blood. Laurent held out one of his hands. “Here, lace these.” From the coat dangled leather lacings, stretching from his wrist halfway up to his elbow.

He had spoken the part of a captain, but now he looked the part; beautiful, nearly regal in his proper attire.

Damen, in contrast, was still wet from head to foot; though his hair and coat were no longer dripping seawater.

Laurent looked at him expectantly, and Damen, after a moment’s hesitation, obliged. His fingers fumbled with the leather as he was unpracticed in such activities. But he tied the string tight, securing the clothing in place, almost sorry to see the glimpses of skin hidden. The air grew tense as he began on the second wrist. “This is… a little _intimate_ for negotiations, don’t you think?”

“Do _you_ , Captain?” Laurent replied cooly. “I hope you’re not expecting anything; I’ve already made it clear that is not in our arrangement. And I’d hate to have lied to Lazar.” The difference in their height was enough that Laurent had to look up to meet Damen’s eyes from their closeness. He gazed up from beneath his pale lashes, and Damen couldn’t be certain that he wasn’t being issued a challenge.

“I don’t expect much from men when I am helping them dress,” Damen said, giving the laces a final tug as he finished.

Their gaze remained locked for another breath. And then Laurent spoke, breaking it and walking towards the desk. “Good,” he said, sitting. “Then it’s straight to business.” He crossed his legs comfortably, leisurely, and motioned for Damen to take a seat across from him.

Straight to business. Damen couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved. But he had a duty to not play into his emotions, regardless of what they were; he had a duty. “So,” he said. “You’ll tell me all you know.”

Laurent laced his fingers, looking pensive. “Yes…. In time.”

“In- _in time_?”

“That _is_ what I said, Captain, do try to keep up.”

Damen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stood, angrily. “You gave me your word.”

Laurent, however, remained calm. “That I did. And I have every intention of keeping my promise, but if you’ll recall, I never said _when_ exactly I would tell you.”

Slowly, Damen sank back down to the chair. He struggled, reigning in his anger. “And when _will_ you tell me?”

The shadow of a grin passed over Laurent’s lips. “Eventually,” he said easily. “Until that time comes, you can stay on _The Saint Veretian_ , serve as my assistant.”

The reign slipped from his fingers. “I am not your cabin boy! You’ll tell me, and you’ll drop me off at the next port!”

Calm, and completely in control, Laurent leaned his elbows forward onto the desk. “I think not,” he said, enunciating each word with slow care. “You see, I’m doing you a favor; you and whatever information you may have gained from this adventure are no good to your Queen as a traitor. The moment your boots touch land is the moment you’re arrested for piracy and treason.”

He was right. Damen felt sick.

Laurent continued. “I’m in need of a strong hand, and you’re in need of a refuge. Work under me and when the time comes, I’ll aid you in your heroism.” He extended a hand, clean now as he offered it for Damen to shake. “Savvy?”

It was all too clear to Damen all too late, and all too sudden; he had captured the infamous pirate captain only to fall lower than his level. This had been the game all along, and Damen had played right into it. All for Queen and Country.

It was humiliating. It tasted bitter on his tongue and reflected sweetly in Laurent’s arctic eyes.

But he had few other options.

Regretfully, he took Laurent’s hand in his own. Laurent’s hand was small in his grasp, but gripped almost painfully tight. “Welcome aboard, _Captain._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a lot of fun for me! I hope that you all enjoyed it as much as I did.
> 
> I am planning on writing more in this universe!! There's a lot of story I wasn't able to get to in this specific fic, and I'd like to explore more of that later on. So if you liked this, you can look forward to that! (Including more romance later on!)
> 
> This will remain a oneshot, and I will continue to publish these as a SERIES of (possibly nonlinear) oneshots. Hopefully you'll see the next one real soon!
> 
> Thank you again for reading!! Feedback is, as always, appreciated!  
> \-----  
> Find me @[Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/justdrinktea) and [tumblr](http://www.justdrinktea.tumblr.com)!


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